


at the end of the year

by suicidalbirds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Death, Harry Has Cancer, M/M, and his best friend is ashton, cancer!harry, harry also doesnt want anyone else besides nick and his doctor to know he has cancer, harry's in a pretty bad situation if you couldnt tell, louis is a hot soccer player who has a thing for green eyes, nick is harry's sarcastic therapist that may or may not have a crush on his patient oh, therapist!nick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicidalbirds/pseuds/suicidalbirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <img/></p>
</div>Harry Styles has never been content with his life - his father walked out on his family when he was young, his mother is a workaholic who spends one too many hours at work, and his social life is almost non-existent, except for a few friends whom he's known since he was a child skipping rocks on the lake behind his house. But when he's diagnosed with cancer, will he change his mind?<p> <br/><i>Or the one where Harry is diagnosed with Leukemia (and social anxiety at the same time - but that's another story) and makes a list of things he wants to do before the end of the year - number one on his list: <b>fall in love</b>.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

They say that a picture can be worth a thousand words, but can it really? We, as normal human beings, tend to only take pictures of happy moments; like weddings, graduations, our triumphs or victories. But what about the sad moments? The crying. The failure. The hate or sadness that you once thought was such a strong presence in the pit of your stomach, but is now just a distant memory. Why don’t they get photographed? Why don’t they get a chance to steal the spotlight? You see, no one wants to remember the dark periods of their life, they’d rather forget them. They’d rather move on. No one can effectively answer the question: why is the ugly around us every day not collected and stored in a photograph? For, with answers, come more and more questions. With each answer, come two more questions. In truth, nobody wants to remember the sad, tragic moments. But wouldn't it warm up your heart just a bit to see those bad memories, to look back and prove that you've moved on? To show that’s you've grown strong; you've become a better person. There are never any pictures of silent tears or un-erasable scars to be hung up in the family room in a cute, little frame or stored in a photo album stored at the top of a book shelf for safe keeping. Only happy moments. Happy thoughts. Happy memories.

 

Louis was different; he took pictures of _everything_. Whenever the boy was given the chance to snap a picture with his old Kodak camera, he’d take the opportunity with open hands. Louis took the pictures that were worth remembering.

 

**

 

In all actuality, Louis didn’t mean to stumble upon the photo album that was at the top shelf of his walk-in closet. It was a mere mistake, the blue eyed man swore, but that didn’t stop him from opening the album and taking a walk down memory lane. Louis tried to put the photo album back, to forget about its existence, but he knew he couldn’t do it. He had to look through it, just once. He found the photo album in a box marked: _Memories_. The box was full of small trinkets that he and Harry collected over the years. The first thing he happened to pull out of the box was the photo album. Of course.

 

On the first page is a picture of Louis and Harry, which happens to be their favorite. A black suit was nicely placed on both boys and a large grin etched into their facial features.

Louis’ heart swelled as he remembered the picture perfect night him and Harry had shared. The picture made him feel a sense of pride. “God, time does literally fly by, doesn’t it?” Louis murmured quietly to himself as he flipped to the next page. A collage of all his high school memories was displayed before his very eyes. He bit down on his tongue as he scanned his cerulean eyes over the memories that would have been non-existent in his brain if he had not taken the time to photograph his life. To be truthful, Louis didn’t think of photographing everything until the year he truly met Harry. Now, wherever he goes, he has a camera in his hold, whether it is in his hands or in a sling-over-the-shoulder bag. Louis looked at an old photo of himself, his tongue sticking out at the photographer. The photo was taken in his backyard while he took a dip in his in-ground pool. Louis scrunched his nose up at he looked at his choice of attire for that day; pink, floral swim trunks that his grandmother sent all the way from Florida in the States during her visit there. “Goodness, what was I thinking?” Nothing, obviously, Louis thought quietly to himself.

 

He then looked at his bare skin in the photograph, no ink marks covering his milky white skin. No tattoos were etched oh so carefully on his skin, no permanent works of art to melt itself to his skin. Louis shook his head. He had definitely changed over the years; Harry had, too. Louis had gotten himself some tattoos to cover his tan skin to better remember Harry. To remember who he was. Sure, getting the tattoos hurt like hell to Louis, but it was totally worth it, right?

 

Louis’ fringe was now plastered with hair care products and mousse, settling down across his forehead in a nice and neat matter. Zayn had given him the idea to sport the new hairstyle, so he would look more suave, like Zayn. The hairstyle was supposed to be a onetime thing, for a party or something of the sort that he and Harry attended, but it grew on him, quite like Harry himself.

 

By the time Louis was done looking over the photo album that held so many memories, he was biting his tongue like crazy, wanting to go back and relive those moments that he had loved so much. A sigh escaped his lips as he closed the cover, hands rubbing against the album cover. He looked at the cover closer, a small drawing catching his eyes. He laughed as he remembered the stick man skate boarding that Harry drew as soon as they got the album. “There. Something to remember me by!” Harry had hummed as he finished the drawing. Harry was so proud of himself once he finished, as if the drawing had the same expert skills as Vincent Van Gogh. Louis’ eyes then fell down to the tattoo of the same exact drawing labeled on his arm. We were such crazy kids, Louis thought to himself, his heart bubbling with joy.

 

He grabbed the box marked Memories and placed the album back into its rightful place. He poked his head over the top of the box, to just take a quick peek, and his eyes fell on a silver chain. Louis picked the chain up with his right hand and looked at the pendant hooked up to the chain. A small, half heart was connected to the chain, the word BFF written on it perfectly. Harry had the other half. He had the other half of Louis’ heart, literally. He unclasped the chain and wound it around his neck, securely clasping the necklace back together. The pendant fell down onto his chest, landing perfectly where his heart beat can be heard.

 

Louis put the box back on the top shelf of his closet and walked into his living room, sitting down on his posh, white couch that had been a gift from someone a few years back. He looked around his living room, examining everything the room held: the crack in the wall that had been hit by one too many soccer balls, the cob webs that were starting to create themselves in the corner of the wall where the ceiling and walls meet together, the one piece of flooring that always squeaks – no matter how softly you step on it -, and even the beautiful things. Like the tulips that were held safe in a magenta colored vase that had been hand painted by Louis himself. Harry had always liked tulips, adored them, actually. The photo frame that held Louis, Harry, and Zayn inside it.

 

A sigh slipped out between Louis’ lips as he remembered everything. He wanted to remember more. He craved the memories. He needed them. His eyes quickly darted over towards the black bookshelf that held all their DVD’s and movies Louis and Harry had collected over the years. Harry’s favorite was an American film called Forrest Gump. Harry would always bug his older friend to watch it with him, and Louis always complied. He didn’t want Harry sad. He read the titles on the spine of the DVD covers, _The Vow_ – a cheesy romantic movie that both Harry and Louis cried during, but would never admit to anyone, not even themselves -, _Elf, The Blind Side_ ; and then his eyes met a case with the words: _Harry and Louis_ written on them in black sharpie. He tried his hardest to remember when and why they made some random video, but the memory never came back to him. He brushed it off, reminding himself to look at it some other time. 

 

Louis stood up and walked towards the large mirror that accompanied a lone, tan wall that was small puzzle piece that helped complete his small house. He stared into the looking glass at his own reflection staring back at him. His hair was now a sandy grey color, all the caramel strands of hair swept away by old age, and his old cerulean eyes were now grey tinted with small hints of blue still swimming in there somewhere. He smiled at his wrinkled face, his eyes lighting up as he did so.

 

A thought crept into his mind as he silently remembered the tree that was placed in his back yard. Louis quickly got up out of his seat, speed-walking over to the front door of the house. “Slow down, Tomlinson, you want the memories to last, don’t you?” Louis mumbled underneath his breath as his hand met the door knob, sending a shock of electricity up his hand and the small of his back.

 

He opened the door to the sweet, fresh summer air. A warm breeze blew into his face, sending a sort of calm over his eternity. Flowers of different hues were placed carefully on the sides of the sidewalk leading up to the front door of his house. Tulips, daises, and roses were the only ones that caught Louis’ eyes, really. He skipped over to a tulip and picked it out of the ground, messing with it in his hands. The purple petals danced around in his hand, making him laugh. It was a laugh that Louis hadn’t used in a while. It was an I’m-Happy laugh, because Louis was truly happy. He loved looking back at his old memories, especially the ones filled with Harry.

 

Birds calls rang In Louis’ ears as he stepped on the freshly cut lawn that lay before him. He looked back at his house that was covered with bright, white Christmas lights that were still turned on, even though it was in the middle of a July afternoon. The white lights were wound around the house neatly, just like they had been nearly thirty years before. Louis first saw the lights when he was around the age of twelve, looking around his empty neighborhood. The house fascinated him, even though he knew that everyone thought it was haunted. The couple who lived there before had been dead long before Louis was alive, yet no one seemed to want to buy it. He shook his head in dismay. Such a poor house.

 

He stepped over to his backyard that held a large, crab apple tree. Pink flowers were spun around the branches of the tree, which would soon turn into sour tasting crab apples by the end of summer. One time, Louis and Harry tried the horrendous taste of the crab apples. “They’re not that bad, right?” Harry joked, as he spit out the last few bites, not being able to eat the rest. Louis just replied with smacking Harry’s arm and kissing his cheek, his lips wet from the crab apples. Harry wiped off his cheek with his hand and rubbed his hand on Louis’ cheek, a snigger climbing up his throat.

 

A bed of red roses - Harry's favorite type of flower - lay neatly on the grass surrounding the tree.

 

Louis walked up closer to the tree, looking over the small words that were carved into the trunk of the tree. The words were carved in with Louis’ old pocket knife that was buried somewhere in a beach, he hoped nobody managed to find the knife and hurt themselves. _Maybe I shouldn’t of buried it there…_

 

His eyes ran over the small message: _Cheshire Cat + Blue Eyes_. Louis smiled at the old nicknames that he and Harry had given each other when they first truly met. A tear slipped out the corner of Louis’ eye as he silently remembered his old friends’ struggles. Harry didn’t deserve it. The night Louis found out what had happened to Harry, he was furious with Harry. A pain was stuck deep inside his heart and his brain felt dizzy, as if he was going to faint any second. He yelled at Harry, and soon regretted it. He stormed off into the night. Louis regretted that night, out of the all bad nights he had ever had.

 

_At least I still have the memories_. Louis walks back inside the house, thinking of going back to _Molly’s Diner_ \- a nice, small cafe that Harry and Louis would go to after Louis' footie games. Just for the memories. Just to remember Harry’s struggles. To keep Harry’s memory _burn like a fire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit to [ abby ](http://what-is-a-tommo.tumblr.com/) for making the lovely banner :)


	2. 1. green met blue when the sun met the moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii here's chapter two, which was beta'd by the lovely kristen :) i hope you enjoy, lovelies xxx  
> feedback is greatly appreciated!!

1\. green met blue when the sun met the moon

_june third, 2010_

Warm sunlight glimmered through Harry’s bedroom window, basking his pale face in a warm, soft glow that almost shimmered. A soft yawn escaped his subtle pink lips as he began to rub the sleep out of his glazed-over eyes. The sunlight made his emerald eyes twinkle as if stars shone in them. Harry arched his back off his bed, cracking all thebones that had cramped over his restful night. Harry pushed his warm covers off his body, the sun quickly warming up his bare belly and legs.  
  
He stretched his arms over his head and got out of his bed, his toes touching the cold ground that covered his bedroom. He snatched a loose tee shirt (that may, or may not have been clean) and a pair of tight black jeans, quickly squeezing his body into the comfortable clothing. He shook all the unnecessary kinks left hidden in his body and clambered down the flight of stairs that lead to the kitchen.  
  
He grabbed a fresh blueberry scone from the blue plate that they laid on, fresh steam arising from the delicious sweet. He saw his mother, hunched over the table, looking over papers for work. Harry simply rolled his eyes. In Harry’s eyes, his mother simply worked too much and needed to take a break from the working desk - but she always argued that they needed the extra money, which was true. Harry helped his mother around the house with cleaning and cooking, and he even had a part time job at a local, cute bakery shop. Pink dyed walls and white and grey tile, with flowers and frills dancing everywhere. But Harry didn’t mind. Harry didn’t mind much of anything, really.  
  
He gave his mother a small peck on the cheek, jolting her from the countless pieces of paper that lay askew on the small kitchen table. “Morning, mum,” Harry mumbled - which was one of his bad habits; people always commented about how his speech skills weren’t up to par. But again, Harry didn’t mind - and took a seat in the chair opposite his mother. He placed his head in his hands, staring intently at the papers that made no sense in Harry’s growing mind.  
  
"Hi, Harry." His mum smiled that sweet smile that reminded Harry of all things beautiful hidden in the dark world, and how his mother _really_ was happy, but in an unconventional way. Most of the time, though, Harry didn’t complain.  
  
“What are you up to today? Walking through the woods with Gem or playing a match of footie with the others?” she murmured, raising her sparkling eyes from her work to look at her beloved son.  
  
Harry thought for a moment, his eyes glancing to the pile of work and back to his loving mother. “Well, I was thinking ‘bout taking you to town and stuff - but obviously you’re busy and that’s a no, so,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. His mother playfully slapped his hands, laughing. “Maybe I’ll go play footie with Ash, but who knows what he’s doing lately with that new girl of his and all.”  
  
"Oh, that sounds fun. And since when does Ashton have a girlfriend?" Anne mumbled- _oh, so that’s where Harry learned it from-_ , taking a sip of her hot Thai tea, which, quite like the sweet scones, had steam bubbling around the top of the hand-painted mug.  
  
"She is _not_ his girlfriend; just some girl!” Harry protested. Then he added, “Or at least that’s what Ash told me.” Harry and Ashton had been best mates since birth, due to both of their mums being close friends. In primary school, they did absolutely everything together - even causing a little trouble here and there. They were each others partners in crime, never mind the age gap that was between them - they were still the best of friends, honestly.  
  
Anne rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure,” she whispered, eyeing her work again. She signed her initials on a piece of paper before discarding it in a folder, “Why don’t you get Gem to drive you to Ashton’s? See if he’s up for a quick match?” Anne always pressed Harry about not being the social butterfly she so wanted him to be. She always had to encourage Harry to invite his friends over or vice versa, though it took hours at a time so Anne usually didn’t try as hard as she wanted to to get Harry out of the house. To go and see things other than the printed words on the novels he so undeniably loved.  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders, finishing off the sweet, buttery scone with the smacking of his lips. “I don’t see why not,” he replied, getting up out of his chair and pushing it back under the table.  
  
Anne’s eyebrows rose up, surprised that it had been that easy for Harry to cave in - not that she didn’t want her son around the house, she loved him dearly, she just wanted him to mature with real people his own age, not silly made-up characters found in novels. She smiled at her son and took a tiny sip of her hot tea.  
  
“If Gem doesn’t feel like it, I’ll gladly take you. I don’t have much work to do tonight,” she murmured, looking at her son as he raced up the stairs to his sister’s room, unsure of if he had heard her words or not.  
  
Harry knocked on his sister’s door before entering. Gemma wassitting on her bed with her laptop on her lap. Her eyes werenarrowed, dark hair falling into her eyes and her lips were **s** ewn into a straight line. She wastyping nervously on her computer, her fingers pounding the poor keys. The white light of the screen illuminated her pale face that made her look a bit ghostly. Harry smiled before clearing his throat. Gemma looked up quickly, pulling her hair out her face behind her ears before letting her fingers rest patiently on her computer keyboard.  
  
“Hey, Haz, what’s up?” she asked, closing her laptop lid to look at her brother. She crossed her legs and patted a spot on her bed for Harry to sit down. Harry sat down and smiled.  
  
"Now, I know you don’t like being a taxi cab or anything, but I was just wondering if you could takemetoashton’shousesoicangoplaysoccerwithhim," Harry mumbled, twiddling his fingers together on his lap. He stole a glance at his sister, her eyes sparkling with adoration and her lips tugged up in a small smile. She fondly tugged on Harry’s curls and tickled his squirmish sides.  
  
Gemma smirked, used to Harry’s fast talking whenever asking someone something, “‘Course, Haz. But be a little bit more confident in yourself, yeh?” She shrugged her shoulders gently before tugging on her pair of dark blue Ked’s onto her small feet, running her fingers through her hair, " _because i need my hair to always look good, mum"._  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, standing up from the bed and racing down the stairs to the front door, exclaiming, “Whatever!”  
  
He heard Gemma laugh quietly and he smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. Gemma slowly followed suit, walking down the stairs rather than running. She grabbed her purse from a small end table that was placed against a wall next to the front door. Harry opened one of the double doors, allowing the fresh smell of summer to linger through the house. Gemma pursed her lips before walking out, looking at Harry over her shoulder.  
  
“See you later, mum!” Harry called out to his mother who still sat in the kitchen, and then walked into the humid bubble that was outside. Instantly, his shirt stuck to his chest and his black tight pants now felt really uncomfortable. _I’ll just borrow a pair of Ash’s clothes,_ Harry thought to himself, walking with Gemma to their mother’s black truck.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Harry knocked on Ashton’s front door, whistling to a tune that he had heard on the radio on the way over. Ashton opened the door and immediately pulled Harry into an embrace, rubbing his back. “Good to see you, Styles! What brings you here?”  
  
"Just wondering if you wanted to play a game of footie or something." Harry twiddled his fingers and glanced down at the side walk beneath his feet.  
  
"Sure! Some boys from school are playing out in the field," Ashton commented, pointing in the direction of the field a few miles away from his house. "Come on in," Ashton said, and motioned for Harry to enter his house. As soon as Harry took a step in, he was met with the sweet aroma of floral scented candles. He smiled. It had been awhile since he had visited Ashton at his new house and he had genuinely missed it. He took a seat on the grey couch, looking at the tank full of exotic fish next to the television stand.  
  
Ashton took a spot next to Harry, placing his hand onto one of Harry’s knobby knees that shook whenever he sat down - it’s just a nervous habit, Harry always assured everyone. As Ashton sat down, Harry directed his eyes towards the clock, watching the hands tick away life with every second that passed. He sighed lowly before facing his best friend, a small smile playing on his lips softly. ~~~~  
  
“So how ya been, Haz?” Ashton murmured, flicking off his television and turning his attention to his best mate.  
  
"Good, just glad summer’s here." Harry shrugged his shoulders, unsure of himself. His green eyes looked at the white analog clock on the wall, the small black hands ticking slowly across the white plate that they lay on. He squinted his eyes because it was hard to see without his stupid glasses on (that he always refused to wear), trying to read the time; _18:02_.  
  
Ashton laughed quietly, shaking his head. “ ‘m just glad that I don’t have to ever go back to that hell hole,” Ashton muttered, surprised that he had actually passed secondary school, what with all the unfinished school assingments he had “accidently” forgot to turn in. “So, you wanna play some footie today?”  
  
Harry nodded his head, his unruly curls bouncing on his head as he did so.  
  
“Could I borrow some clothes? I-I don’t think skinny jeans are suitable to play footie in.” Harry laughed, giving Ashton a sheepish grin, to which Ashton replied, “Go right ahead!”  
  
Harry sat up quickly and walked into Ashton’s tidy room, which was covered in posters of bands that Harry had never even heard of before. He swiftly grabbed a pair of basketball shorts and a white tee shirt. He stripped himself of his clothes down to his boxers and tossing them to a corner of Ashton’s room that Harry had declared was his.  
  
 _“What are you doing?” Ashton had exclaimed as Harry tossed a shit ton of clothes and books onto the corner of the room. “This is my spot now, and I claim it,” Harry had ruefully said with glee, sticking his tongue out at his friend._  
  
Harry slipped the clothes on easily and ran a slender hand through his messy curls, sighing in relief. The clothes fit loosely on his skinny frame and he liked the feeling of not having any resticiton, like his skinny jeans had given him earlier - restriciton to be free from being comfortable. He walked back to the living room and cheered out, “Ready to go, mate?”  
  
*****  
  
Harry ran onto the muddy field as soon as Ashton stopped his car, his shoes sloshing into the soft, wet ground beneath his large feet. He almost tripped over his own feet as he excitedly ran through the fresh air, admiring the way the heat let him feel free. Ashton soon caught up to him, picking him off the ground and trying his best to carrying Harry like a baby, “What’re you doing, Ash!!” Harry exclaimed, trying to get out of Ashton’s hold.  
  
"Carrying you like the big baby you are." Ashton stuck out his tongue before letting go of Harry and letting him stand. Harry rolled his eyes and wiped his sweaty palms across the blue basketball shorts.  
  
"Not nice."  
  
"All’s fair in love and war, Haz."  
  
Harry and Ashton walked up the other boys gathered around the field, Ashton hugging a few of them and giving them quick high fives.  
  
“I’m getting jealous over here!” Harry mocked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting jokingly. Ashton pulled Harry into a side hug and pinched his cheek, smirking.  
  
Harry looked over the other boys - they were all much bigger than him, muscle and weight wise, but most of them didn’t even reach his chin when standing straight. His eyes were fixed on a boy in the back, ocean blue dye coloring the whites of his eyes and his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The boy noticed Harry’s staring and smiled, and Harry's heart pace increased as he saw the gentle smile playing coyly on the boy's thin lips. He looked anywhere but his face, instead, he decided on concentrating on the loud cricket noises that echoed through his ears as night fall began to envelop them in the tiny world. Harry;s eyes came back to Ashton, watching his animated face as he talked to the other boys.  
  
Harry smiled as Ashton blabbered on about playing a footie match with them, his eyes lingering back to the blue eyed boy. Ashton had said earlier that all these boys were from school, but Harry was quite sure he hadn’t seen this man before. Because he knows he wouldn’t forget such a pretty face that easily. He shook his head as he saw the other boys run off in different directions and Ash lightly patted his bum. “Time to play, Haz!” Ashton whispered, running to the left side of the field.  
  
Harry daziedly kept his ground, unsure of where the ball was. He quickly dashed across the field, eyes on the look out for the black and white ball. His feet slid on the muddy grass, making him unbalanced. Harry steadied himself before racing for the ball, which was in possesion of by a small boy with bleached blonde hair. Too easy, Harry smirked as he ran up behind the boy, trying to distract him. He panted as his feet kicked at the ground, mud ruining the soles of his new shoes.  
  
Harry was almost caught up to the boy with his eyes gazing down at the ground until he bumped into a figure, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He clutched his sides before looking at the perpetrator, his eyes going wide as he saw the boy with blue eyes in front of him. He stared at him, looking over every facial feature his eyes could collect - the scrunch of his light eye brows, the light blue tinged with grey that dyed his eyes, the small dusting of freckles that lightly covered his nose and cheeks, and the thin pink lips that were tugged up at the corners in a smile. He was _beautiful_.  
  
The blue eyed man looked at him, a goofy smiling playing on his lips. “Hey, get your head in the game, mate,” he muttered, clapping a hand on Harry’s tense shoulders. Though the clap was really light, Harry fell down onto the soggy grass on his bum with an ‘oof’ slipping out between his parted lips. Harry’s emerald eyes were wide open and his mouth kept on opening and closing, trying to find the right words to pronounce off his lips.  
  
But his eyes were transfixed on the beautiful boy in front of him, eyes sparkling and his heart beat thumping in his ears. He saw the boy gently smile at him before walking off, a light pink color dusting his pale cheeks. Harry watched the boy saunter off, his hips sashaying as if he were trying to tease Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and licked his dry lips.  
  
Harry quickly stood up on his feet, wincing in pain and grabbing his bum with his large hand as he tried to stretch his legs. His eyes scanned around the muddy field for Ashton, finding him by the water cooler some other boy had brought along for everyone to use. Harry walked over to Ashton slowly, careful not to put too much strain on his bottom; it felt as if he accidentally sat on something when the blue eyed kid pushed him down.  
  
"Ash! Ash!" Harry called off to his friend, running to catch up with him, though he was obviously out of breath and his bum kept on trying to tell him to slow down with random spurts of pain shooting up his rear and the small of his back.  
  
"What ya need, Styles?" Ashton asked as he took a tentative sip of icy cold water from the white paper cup clutched in his hands. His cheeks were painted red from exhaustion and his eyes were half-lidded as if he was going to collapse and fall asleep at any given moment.  
  
Harry half smirked at his friend and let his hand fall to his side away from his bum. “I think I pulled a bum muscle or something,” he whispered, embarrassment coursing through his pumping veins. His eyes were trained on the muddy ground, concentrating on the way the dark brown mud sloshed with the bright green of the grass.  
  
"What?" Ashton sputtered out, nearly spitting his drink on his best friend. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and threw the paper cup to the ground, staring at Harry with curiosity hidden in his hazel eyes that held slivers of green in them.  
  
"J-just drive me home, please - I don’t feel like calling Gem, she’s probably out with friends or something. I’ll tell you later or something. It’s not that big of a deal, I swear," Harry replied, pivoting from foot to foot on the muddy ground, getting mud painted on his new white runners. Well, there goes that pair..His eyes involuntarily searched for the boy with blue eyes, racing across the muddy field with his feet kicking and striding across the grass in perfect stance. Ashton looked behind Harry’s shoulder to see what he was staring at so intently and smirked.  
  
Ashton nodded his head before reaching out a hand to grab a hold of Harry’s, Harry’s hand completing enveloping his. He waved to his other mates before walking with Harry to the car park. “Do you want to stay the night tonight?” Ashton asked, glancing at the sky that was darkening with every minute that passed. Little white dots started to spot the sky in a beautiful masterpiece that blanketed the Earth.  
  
"Yeh, yeh sure. I’ll call my mum when we get to yours - she probably won’t mind," Harry mumbled, getting up into the shotgun seat of Ashton’s black 2006 Range Rover. The posh leather seats of the car let Harry relax, resting his head on the back of the seat. Harry let out a sigh of relief as he felt the cold blast of air from the air conditioner chilling his aching and sore bones.  
  
Ashton turned on the radio to some random hip hop channel - that Harry didn’t really love or hate, he might add - and started the ignition of the car up. Harry leaned his head against the window, watching the silent world pass by as the drove to Ash’s house. Ashton looked over at his friend, ruffling up his tangled curls as he drove down the bumpy road that led to his house. The poor road was made out of white gravel and potholes were scattered across it, which made it difficult for Ashton to drive and for Harry to keep his head laid on the window comfortably. But Harry didn’t mind - things could be worse, he reminded himself as his head bounced across the glass.  
  
Ashton pulled to a spot as his car met the nice, smooth pavement of his drive way that led up to his brick garage. He gently shook Harry’s shoulder lightly, under the impression that Harry had fallen asleep on the short car drive to his house. He smiled as Harry opened his eyes to the dark world, night covering the sky. He stretched his limbs out before unbuckling his seat belt, getting out the car and walking slowly to Ashton’s front door. Ashton walked up behind him and squeezed his shoulder light, “Have a nice kip, yeh?” he asked, unlocking his door and getting greeted by the barking of his small dog, Harrison.  
  
"I guess you could call it that.." Harry laughed, squatting down to the floor to pet the small, feisty dog. "How have you been, buddy?" Harry cooed to the dog, scratching him behind the ears, getting a loud bark in return. He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. Harry blinked his eyes to get adjusted to the brightness of the room once Ashton turned on the living room lights. He stood up, wiping his palms on the soft material of the shorts he borrowed from Ashton. "Hey, um, I know I’m already borrowing these shorts and the shirt - but I was wondering if I could borrow some pyjamas?” Harry asked, placing his hands behind his back and biting his bottom lip.  
  
Ashton smiled fondly at Harry. “You don’t need to ask, Harry. ‘Course you can,” he murmured, ruffling Harry’s curls again and placing his bright and bubbly dog into his over-the-night cage that he slept in. “You go get them and I’ll call mum, yeh?”  
  
Harry nodded and went into Ashton’s room, searching through his closet to find something that looked nice - but really he was just looking for something that fit him. Harry and Ashton weren’t exactly the same size in clothing. He decided on a black loose Rolling Stones shirt and a pair of plaid sleep pants. He walked into the bathroom, his bum sending up little shocks of pain to his waist. Harry looked into the mirror, his curls unruly from Ashton’s manhandling and his eyes red due to his lack of sleep - the night before he had been up all night trying to finish a novel, and he was glad he did because there was a happy ending. Harry always loved happy endings. His right shoulder tensed as he rose the shirt he borrowed from Ashton over his head and threw it into the hamper.  
  
His eyes widened as he looked at his shoulder that was dyed black and blue with a bruise - the shape of a hand print on his shoulder blade. He touched it gently and hissed in pain, wincing. He let his shoulder droop down, ignoring the pain that now balled up in his shoulder. Carefully pulling the Rolling Stones tee shirt over his head, he patted his shoulder softly, fear coursing through his veins. His heart beat could be heard rushing in his ears, making him squint his eyes. Harry slowly bent down to pull the shorts off, black boxer briefs snuggling his bum tightly. Pulling the waist band of his boxers to examine if his bum had been hurt on the outside or just a simple muscle pull, Harry let out a gasp. Another bruise, mirroring the one of his shoulder, lay on his bum.  
  
Harry bit his lip as tears welled up in his eyes. _What’s happening to me?_ Harry thought, sucking his bottom lip in as his chest tightened and it felt hard to breathe. “Ash!” Harry called out, terrified of whatever was happening to his young body. Thoughts of _ohgodohgodohgod_ ran through Harry’s mind as he felt a single tear slide down his pale cheek.  
  
"Be there in a mo, Haz!" he heard Ashton call out, his footsteps thundering in the house as he ran to the bathroom. "What, Har- oh." Ashton stood in the door frame, his eyes widening as Harry showed him the bruise that covered his bum. "W-what happened?" Ashton asked, scooting closer to Harry and loosely intertwining their fingers together.  
  
"I-I don’t know. I f-fell down on the field -" Harry let out a sniffle," - and it hurt really badly, so I thought that I just pulled a muscle. But -but look at it!" Harry whined, tears caressing his face in a silent murmur of hurt. "Help," he whimpered out, reaching for Ashton to hold onto something, anything to keep his knees from buckling under his weight. Harry winced back in pain. “D-don’t touch my shoulder, either, it’s brusied, too.”  
  
"Harry? What’s happening to you?"  
  
"I was wondering the same exact thing."  
  
"No need to be a smart ass," Ashton murmured, sticking his tongue out before hugging Harry. "Here, get your clothes on and I’ll make us some dinner and we’ll watch a movie of your choice, alright?" Ashton rubbed Harry’s sides gently and placed a chaste kiss to the top of his head. Ashton let himself out of the bathroom, walking down to the small kitchen stored in the back corner of his warm house. He pulled out a few cans of Dr. Pepper for himself and Harry, setting them down on the wooden kitchen table. "Oh, Harry dear, your meal awaits you!" Ashton called out in sing-songy voice, watching as Harry slowly tiptoed into the kitchen while rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm.  
  
"Oh, how romantic," Harry mocked, taking a seat at the table and flicking off Ashton. Ashton gasped, hand over his heart dramtically. "Rude!" Ashton whispered, flicking the top of Harry’s head. "Oi, that hurt!" Harry exclaimed rubbing his head with his fingers.  
  
"Karma’s a bitch, innit? Anyways, what would you like to dine on this evening, Mr. Styles? I’ve hired _world renowned_ chef, Ashton Irwin, to cook it for you!” Ashton exaggerated, wanting to make his best friend laugh rather than think about the bruises that littered his milky white skin. Ashton had no idea what had really happened to Harry - he ruled out abuse because he knew Anne and she would _never_ lay a finger on Harry, and his father hadn't been in his life since the divorce. But a thought lingered through Ashton's mind of Harry's father _actually_ coming back, but that thought made him shiver so he stopped thinking - but his mind soon clouded over with the thought of making his friend happy and joyful.  
  
"Could we have pasta for dinner - the kind with the creme white sauce that tastes like heaven?" Harry murmured, laying his head down on the table.  
  
“‘Course, Haz, but only because I _know_ it’s your favorite!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading :) xx  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading this c: i hope you enjoyed xx


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